Apocalypse Divided/Gwen:Origins

Snake was supposed to be working late. Training at InGens Site B facilities. Instead he was using the peace and quiet to make a difficult decision. Sitting in Wyatt’s dark empty office and nearly crushing his chair, under lamplight he was slowly and carefully laying out some stationary in front of him. His giant claws making it a painstakingly slow process he kept having to restart after tearing up the paper or crushing one of the InGen brand pens. His concentration was broken by a shrill laugh.
“Ssssnake!! Haha buddy what are you doing here so late?!” Said Conqaxl swaggering in with his usual over the top cockiness. “I could ask you the same thing.” Snake muttered angrily without even looking up from his slow ponderous work of trying to pick up a pen.
“Well since you ask,” Conqaxl started to strike various poses and show off his quick feet with a dance worthy of the Kislev circus. “The Doc’s got me doing some extra workout routines, getting me up to peak fitness for season 10. What a season that’s going to be! You know I might just score every game or leap over a beast of Nurgle! Just wish the rest of the team could keep up! Damn sure those losers at Lord of the Skinks can’t keep up, you know if I wer-” Snake raised his head and snapped at the skink, “Leave. Me. Alone! You little degenerate freak!”. Conqaxl instinctively recoiled in a cowardly looking defensive stance, his fin sheepishly lowered. “Fine” he said, and after an obscene arm gesture he backed up then leapt out the room through a roof light.
Snake continued his frustrating work with the stationary, finally getting a pen wedged between two massive fingers.
A voice spoke out of nowhere, “You know he doesn’t even score the most touchdowns.” Snake was visibly startled this time and began to look around scanning the walls of the office. In the far corner, barely visible in the darkness and with his skin roughly matching the colour of the wall was Chameleon. “Conqaxl I mean, he’s all talk”, continued the skink. “I score more than him, if he didn’t have someone to pass to he’d be dead by now. Where’s my accolades? He gets all the press coverage and I do all the work.” Snake rubbed his head in irritation, dropping the pen again, “Get. Out. I’m tired of your petty squabbles. I came here to be alone.” Chameleon carried on talking anyway, “Funny business with the coach. He’s not been here for months. I’d suggest we go rescue him from InGen tower like Knives did but there’s probably no point. Maybe that’s just where he belongs. His strategy seems to still be working well, I guess when the Clade Masters are ready they’ll let him come and work here again. When I was last at InGen tower I did this thing where I-” Snake cut the skink off, “Get to the point before I gut you.” Chameleon shrugged and left the room muttering to himself something about just making conversation and no need to be nasty.
Finally Snake was alone, and had managed to once again grasp a pen. He began to scrawl a letter with childlike hand writing.
It read as follows:

“To Lord of the Skinks. I hate InGen. Conqaxl is a Jerk. The skinks are playing this game all wrong its stupid. I could play for you if you can buy out my contract. Or please find me another respectable team. Thanks. Snake.”

He screwed the paper into a ball, wrapped it in tape and wrote LOTS on the ball.

Leaving the facility he waved down the postal worker who was emptying the mail boxes. To his surprise it was a skink.
“What you got there?” She asked. “Nothing, Send it.” Snake grumbled. “Ok, but I gotta be honest it looks a mess and isn’t labelled correctly. Where’s the postage stamp?”, replied the skink. “Look just send it to Lord of the Skinks!” yelled Snake as he tried to slam the package into the skinks face. But this skink was fast, faster than anything Snake had seen before… In a flurry of strange martial arts she twisted Snakes arm and used his massive strength against him, slamming him into the ground. “Do not touch me!” She growled. Despite all his strength Snake was inexplicably unable to get up from under her grip. “Why are you contacting LOTS?” She demanded interrogatively. “Because I want to leave! Because coach Wyatt is ruining my career!” Snakes honest outburst had some kind of effect on her and she released him. “You hate Wyatt too?”, she asked studying Snake carefully as if trying to figure something out, “I was hoping to find him here, but I can’t”. “He’s at the tower… why do you hate him?” replied Snake, curiously. The skink took in a deep sigh, “Because he destroyed my home. My name is Gwen. I play BloodBowl with the Leaf Tail Wanderers. We’ve enjoyed playing the game for decades under the blissful canopies of the Rainforests of Ghent. One day huge armies of metal monsters came in the night and destroyed everything. Our homes and our livelihoods were lost. Now InGen are building a large research facility there and harvesting the forests rich and diverse life forms for their diabolical experiments.” Snake interrupted, a little tired of chattering skinks, “What does this have to do with Wyatt?” He asked. Gwen continued, “When I protested I was told the project was being personally overseen by Wyatt. That this was part of his greater plan for InGen. Many protesters were killed by InGen that day… I vowed to get revenge on Wyatt and have been working as mail skink in the hopes of tracking him down. But if he’s not here…” Snake thought for a moment, “We never see him. But if you join the team, you might get closer. Knives could help you find him. Go to the recruitment drive tomorrow and show them your moves, I’ll put in a good word your bound to get a try out. Good luck little skink.”
Gwen nodded, “Thank you,” she gestured to Snakes letter, “I’ll make sure Lord of the Skinks get this.”

The two went their separate ways that evening not realising just how dramatic an effect they’d had on the fate of InGen Apocalypse….

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